You Can't Always Get What You Want
by Floralia
Summary: Spoilers for Season Six. Dean may be stuck with a changed Sam, but learns that sometimes having less of something is better than having nothing at all. Co-written by Gidgetgal9.


**You Can't Always Get What You Want **

**Summary**: Spoilers for Season Six. Dean may be stuck with a changed Sam, but learns that sometimes having less of something is better than having nothing at all.

**Disclaimer: **Not ours

**Gidgetgal9-AN:** This story is dedicated to my dear friend sendintheclowns, who is my mentor when it comes to fan fiction writing. I hope this is to your liking birthday girl! I would like to thank Floralia for agreeing to take this on with me during the crazy time that is the holidays. A big thanks to Princess_schez who made a banner for our Supernaturalville post and did the beta on this. Princess_schez wanted me to pass this on- _Here's hoping sendintheklowns has a truly Supernatural birthday_! A lastly I would like to thank our back up beta, Bayre for being there to support us.

**Floralia - AN:** Happy Birthday Sendintheclowns – you deserve so much for humouring me and dealing with my neurosis with such good grace, so I hope you enjoy our birthday offering. I would also like to thank Princess_schez for the beta, and Gidgetgal9 for being her, and for fuelling my elusive muse.

-0-

_You can't always get what you want  
But if you try sometimes you just might find  
You get what you need _

_- The Rolling Stones_

Darrin Morris sat in the local bar drowning his sorrows. It was Friday night and, well, that meant a lonely horrible weekend was ahead of him. Ever since he had lost his wife seven months ago to a beyond normal circumstance, he had found the weekends were something he dreaded.

Before Marie's death, the weekend was something he couldn't wait for. They both worked as teachers, he taught English at local high school and she taught kindergarten. Darrin and Marie both loved children and their jobs, but the weekends were a special time where the two of them could sleep in and enjoy each others company with no interruptions. It was a perfect life and they had looked forward to expanding their little family in the next year.

That was all just dust in the wind now, just as Marie was. Her weird death had left her in no state to bury and so he'd had Marie cremated. He'd released most of her remains at the park where they had loved to spend so much time.

Darrin was about to order another drink when out of the corner of his eye, he caught the glimpse of someone that to this day brought him nightmares. This person was supposed to have saved Marie, but instead had sacrificed her to further his cause.

At the time Darrin had let the man get away – too stunned to react - but ever since then he'd dreamed of having a face off. To make the man understand just what he had taken from Darrin.

Darrin stood up from the bar and took a moment to steady himself before confronting the man who had taken his life from him. Once he got his bearings about him, he realized that the man wasn't alone. There was another man with him – he was about the same age only a bit shorter, but both men were tall and well built. It was enough to make Darrin be a bit cautious because he knew if this ended up in a fist fight, with his smaller build and frame he would never stand a chance.

Taking a calming breath, he launched himself away from the bar and towards the table the two men had settled at.

"Sam," Darrin growled out as he approached the table. "I never thought I'd see you again."

The larger man turned to face him, and it was apparent by his expression that he didn't recognize Darrin. This only fueled Darrin's anger.

"Excuse me, do we know each other?" Sam asked with his face scrunched up in confusion.

Darrin leaned in and whispered in his ear. "You were here before and took care of a demon problem."

As Darrin pulled away he could see that Sam was finally remembering that he had taken Marie's life, but to his dismay there was no sympathy in the man's expression.

"Oh yeah, well things didn't go as well as I would have liked, man. I am sorry that it had to end like that," Sam replied, his tone far from sincere.

Darrin could feel his anger boiling over and he wanted to wail on Sam, but he knew it would only end with him being laid out on the floor, not Sam. The man that had accompanied Sam into the bar seemed ready to react, and two against one were not good odds, so Darrin did the only thing he could do and backed off.

"Yeah, well you did try." Darrin replied as he collected himself.

The other man seated across from Sam spoke. "So are we okay here?"

It took all of Darrin's self control, but he nodded and turned to the other man and held out his hand. "My name's Darrin, and Sam here helped me out a few months ago only it didn't go smoothly."

The other man took his hand and gave him a sad smile. "I'm Dean, Sam's brother, and I'm sorry to hear that. Things in our line of work can get out of hand."

Darrin sighed. He knew that this wasn't the right time to take action, so he decided to cut his losses and look for another opportunity.

"Yeah well, hope your visit is uneventful this time," Darrin replied as he walked away. Both boys nodded at him as he left.

-0-

Dean was on edge. RoboSam had brought them to town to take care of what they hoped would be a simple poltergeist hunt It was something to keep them busy while they waited for their next Alpha assignment from Crowley. All seemed to be going as well as it could until they had an unexpected visitor at the bar.

Darrin had seemed to be a guy on the brink of doing something desperate when he'd approached their table and Dean had been ready to react; only it hadn't been needed. The guy wasn't after revenge over ill gotten Winchester gains, or even the fact that Sam had nailed his wife - all things Dean was worried about, considering how carefree Sam was with that sort of thing now.

No, Darrin was just a poor average Joe that had witnessed the supernatural and lived to tell about it. Unfortunately, it looked as though he wasn't dealing well, and the sight of Sam had really pushed him closer to the edge of the little sanity he was holding on too. It was a real relief that Darrin let things go.

The sad thing was, the Soulless Boy Wonder hadn't even clued in on the danger. Sam had had no clue that the guy was ready to explode. His little brother might be a better hunter and able to read people who were on his radar due to a hunt, but otherwise he just didn't care.

Dean really wanted to order another beer and just forget for a bit that he was sitting with a Pod version of his brother, and to let the outburst with Darrin go, but he had a feeling that knowing details might come in handy. It might show him exactly what his brother had done during their year apart.

"So Sam, care to feel me in on the hunt Darrin mentioned?" Dean asked nonchalantly, trying to feel Sam out.

Sam scrunched up his forehead in thought and it sent a pang of loss through Dean. That expression was so Sam, his Sam.

Sam blew out a long breath before speaking. "Well, his wife was possessed by a high level demon. Darrin had called a priest about an exorcism and the priest gave him Bobby's number and Bobby called me. I came in and trapped her and realized pretty quickly that she was in the area for a reason, not just for regular demon kicks. She was an upper level demon sent here for a purpose, only she never did say exactly what."

Dean felt his stomach clench with unease. "So what, she flew the coop before you could find out?"

Sam sighed. "Yeah, see Darrin wasn't happy with me torturing his wife for information and so he grabbed her out of the trap and the bitch escaped. It was a big waste."

Dean sucked in a deep breath to calm himself, not wanting to make a scene. "You tortured her in front of him?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dude, it was an upper level demon and I told Darrin that his wife was dead, or near death, because they ride their meat suits hard. I insisted that Darrin leave and he wouldn't listen. I should have locked him in a closet and then I would have at least got the Intel."

"Yeah well Sam, you are lucky the man didn't try to take you out after all that. Geesh, you really do need me around for a moral compass."

Sam gave him a small smile. "Yeah I do. I just can't seem to get it."

Dean needed space, and as much as he hated it, he needed to leave Sam alone so that he could wrap his head around this latest revelation. "Dude, I need to go for a walk or something. Promise me to stay out of trouble."

Sam sighed. "Yeah okay."

"I'll hold you to it," Dean replied as he stood. He gave his brother one last nod as he headed out.

Dean knew it was important to keep RoboSam safe so that his brother had a body to return to, but it was getting harder and harder to stay with this unfeeling version.

-0-

The job went off without a hitch, and Dean didn't know why that bothered him as much as it did. Any post-civilian life glitches he might have experienced in those early days back with Sam had been smoothed out and they'd worked in tandem – in, out, the building was cleansed and the poltergeist was gone. There wasn't so much as a bruise from a flying bookend to show for it.

Once upon a time he would have longed for that efficiency – back when he and Sam seemed constantly at odds and Dean didn't think he'd ever know how it felt to move in a body without bruises.

Now, the Sam he was working with was a consummate hunter and nothing could distract him from the job at hand.

He remembered how exasperating it had been that his brother could see the point of view of an angry spirit, sympathize even; that he could question what to Dean seemed so black and white or worry over whether or not a traumatized soul had found peace. He'd hated the inadequacy of not being able to give his brother answers, of never having stopped to ask himself the questions. Sam's bleeding heart had driven Dean up the wall, but that Sam could dust himself off and throw his duffle over his shoulder without even knowing the dead girl they'd just banished's name…

Dean had wanted a brother that would tell him what he was thinking, stop turning the radio down, lighten up and get laid so he wasn't always a giant knot of tension ready to explode.

When it came to Sam he'd wanted so many things. Now it was starting to look like a case of be careful what you wish for.

Sam with a soul had been a source of frustration, but Sam without one was just downright scary, and as he watched the thing with his brother's form wiping the banister of their prints and heading nonchalantly outside, he couldn't help but smile grimly to himself. The kid couldn't win, and Dean would find fault either way.

"What you grinning about?" Sam called dismissively over his shoulder, not even trying to put the slightest shade of interest in his voice.

"Nothing at all," Dean muttered, brushing past the other man and heading glumly to the car.

He dropped Sam off at the bar they'd stopped at the night before. Back when Sam was Sam and the world had been heading for Hell in a hand-basket, post hunt beers with his brother had been something to look forward to, something that happened with steadily increasing rarity until the memory of it became something to cherish.

Now, this Sam didn't sleep – didn't even pretend to any more – and Dean was far too wearied by spending the day with him to want to spend his down time with him too. The idea of sharing a relaxing pitcher of beer while watching the creature that lived behind his brother's face as he tried to pick up a barmaid was more than his fried nerves could take.

Instead he'd just head back to the room and mope, stare at Lisa's name on his phone for an hour, and pretend that the emotion he felt when Sam failed to make it home before light was something other than relief.

-0-

Darrin had woken around noon with a pounding behind his eyes, fully dressed on the sofa in the living room. There was a collection of photos scattered across his lap and a sour taste in his mouth, and when he swung his legs onto the floor he knocked over the empty whiskey bottle that had been resting beside the sofa. He watched it roll away from him until it was lost from sight under the coffee table.

Sighing, he wiped his eyes and cleared his throat, wincing at the bright light that shone in through the partially closed curtains.

Carefully he gathered up the photos that had been sharing the sofa with him and laid them reverently down on the table in front of him. Marie's face stared out at him, smiling and alive but strangely reproachful. She'd always hated it when he'd had too much to drink; hated the stale smell of alcohol on his breath and the desire to hide himself away.

He missed that. He even missed her scolding. A night banished to the spare bedroom would be nothing if it meant she'd be alive.

A shower and a change of clothes did nothing to make him feel more human, nor did the long day of emptiness stretching before him, hours to himself that he had no idea how to fill. If he couldn't even find enough to wile away an afternoon by himself, how could he expect to fill another forty years? Marie had been the one that planned things; she'd been his driving force for so long now that he was floundering without her.

It was no surprise that nightfall saw him heading back to the bar. There was some small comfort to be found in the routine of a beer bottle and a bar stool, one that could no-longer be found in lesson plans or mowing the lawn or arguing about where they'd put all their stuff when they turned the office into a nursery. Marie was gone. He had done nothing but stand back and watch as she'd been taken from him, had been too numb to even fight back, to make the thing that took her pay. He deserved nothing more than to fester in the dark and the inevitable hangover it gave him.

Darrin had never expected to see Sam again, to find himself face to face with his demons. When it mattered, he'd been terrified and numb. But every night since he'd saved her, he'd done her proud.

He was in the middle of his second drink when Sam walked in. He could tell that Sam had noticed him the second he'd crossed the threshold, but he didn't expect the nod in his direction, or the drink that was slid towards him down the bar.

It was a step up from not having a clue who Darrin was, but it was one that left him feeling empty and cold. Did Sam think that buying him a drink could ease his conscience somehow? Did Sam think that he could be forgiven?

He made no move to accept the drink, or acknowledge the gesture, and he could practically see they way Sam's forehead furrowed as he tried to figure that one out. He was drinking alone tonight, no-longer on his brother's leash. He'd been alone back then, too, and Darrin got the strong sense that this was a man who needed a mediator. This was a man he really didn't want the curvy blond behind the bar to spend any more time talking with.

He knew what Sam did to women who thought they could trust him.

Darrin couldn't stay here any longer; couldn't be in the same room without feeling the need to reach over and tear the other man's throat out – either that or cry into his drink until he was hoarse, and he knew from experience which was the more likely course of action.

With one last scowl in Sam's direction he staggered off his seat and left the bar.

Sam followed.

"Hey, Darrin was it? Uh, so you're not leaving because of me are you?"

Darrin had never really understood the expression 'seeing red' until that moment. His hands clenched unconsciously on the portable taser in his jacket pocket and he found it strangely grounding. It was Sam's fault he had it after all – Sam had been the one to open his eyes to the kind of horrors that lived in the world. So much so Darrin had been afraid to set foot outside his house until he'd bought it, something to make him feel less vulnerable.

He gritted his teeth and turned to face the other man. Sam was rocking on the balls of his feet and Darrin couldn't tell if he looked bored or uncertain.

"What do you want, Sam?" He asked, trying to keep his voice even.

"Nothing. Well, I just wondered… You kind of ignored me in there and I _was_ trying, and…" Sam broke off, rolling his eyes. "Why am I even doing this," he muttered under his breath, then lowered his head to look Darrin straight in the face with a pained smile and earnest yet empty eyes.

"I'm very sorry for what happened to your wife. I _did_ tell you you probably didn't want to come along, but I'm sorry for the way things turned out."

Darrin opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, too stunned and outraged to find words. "Do you understand human emotion?" he asked at last. "Or is this just a game to you? Seeing what you can do to possibly hurt me more? Trying to figure out how I'll react?"

"Honestly?" Sam shrugged, "Less of a game, more of an experiment. I was just trying to be nice. Guess that's a work in progress," he huffed.

Darrin's whole body was shaking with rage. The things this man had done… the heartless way he had acted, and to bring it all up again now… To breeze back into town and make light of Darrin's loss… it was too much.

His hand tightened around the taser in his pocket and he found himself absently flicking it on. He'd thought about it every night. Fantasized about it more times than he could count and here they were, and the parking lot was empty. He needed to wipe that condescending smile off Sam's face. He needed to make him pay.

It might not be easy, but it could be no harder than every other breath he'd taken since scattering his wife on the wind.

He had nothing left to lose. Sam had seen to that.

-0-

Darrin watched as Sam rose to consciousness slowly. If he'd expected panic or desperate pleas, any of the emotions Marie had demonstrated when waking to find herself bound to a chair, Darrin was quick to learn he'd be disappointed. Sam's only sign that he was at all interested in his current situation was the slight tensing of his shoulders during the first few seconds of his stirring. Sam's head cocked slightly to the left and Darrin could see him casually test the strength of the bonds at his wrists and ankles, but he had stilled by the time he opened his eyes.

Sam gave his surroundings a brief calculated glance before settling his gaze where Darrin was sitting. Darrin leaned forward but Sam sat back in his seat, posture seemingly relaxed. Even so, Darrin's insides were warmed by the brief flicker of hesitation he'd seen on his prisoner's face. Maybe even surprise.

Of all the things Sam might have expected to be behind his current situation, being kidnapped and tied down by Darrin clearly hadn't even been a blot on his radar. He would make the other man pay for that arrogance.

"Just what's going on here, Darrin?" Sam's voice was cold. Sam might not have recognized him at first, but he couldn't have failed to recognize the place or the position he was in. He'd brought Marie here, tied her down and watched as she'd writhed and screamed. Asked her endless questions and continued to make her cry long after she'd begged him not to. The spray painted symbol was still visible on the concrete beneath Sam's chair, along with the bloodstains. Even the tools Darrin had brought to play with were the same.

"This stuff isn't going to work on me," Sam told him, and Darrin could hear the warning and the threat in his voice, the offer of what might happen to him if he tried. "I'm not a demon."

"Are you sure about that?" Darrin asked him, voice shaking. He had to call up the memory of what Sam had done, had to fuel his rage to keep the doubts at bay. "I'm going to make you scream like one just the same."

-0-

Darrin studied the bloodied beaten body before him and tried to remember how it had got to this point. He remembered losing it and bringing Sam here, but the rest was an alcohol fueled blur. The need for revenge had consumed him but now, as he studied the form before him ... it made him sick. He had become the thing he hated and it was a sobering truth. He was no better than Sam - in fact he was worse. Sam had acted on some misguided belief that he was helping humanity. Darrin he reacted solely for revenge.

Saying a silent prayer, Darrin approached Sam's limp body and tried to find a pulse. It was weak but there. Finding some relief in the fact his victim was alive he tried to stave off the panic that was building. He needed to get Sam help but didn't want to face what he had done. To have his family live through the disgrace of Darrin's actions so soon after losing Marie would be a horrible burden.

Darrin collected himself and grabbed Sam's cell phone from the pile of his discarded possessions. He had to take a calming breath to keep himself from throwing up when he took in all the blood that surrounded them. Once the worst of the nausea had passed, Darrin scrolled down the menu of Sam's phone, trying to remember his brother's name. Dean was his most recent call and it sounded right, so Darrin said a silent prayer as he hit the speed dial.

-0-

Dean couldn't say that being woken by a call from Sam at 4 in the morning didn't cause an instant moment of gut wrenching panic. He sighed and wiped his eyes, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He supposed some reactions were built in, as instinctual as breathing, and he couldn't remember a time when his brother calling in the middle of the night had ever been good before.

A new Sam came with a new list of potential problems, which could range anywhere from wanting Dean to bail him out of jail to helping him bury a body.

The fact it wasn't even his brother's voice on the other end of the phone did nothing to immediately sooth his unease. He knew it wasn't Sam, because even with a soul he didn't think Sam had ever managed to sound quite that hysterical.

"… and now I don't know what to do and… God, I don't know what to. Maybe you should just get here."

"What?" Dean blinked, as if hoping that somehow that would make the whole thing start to make some kind of sense.

"Yeah, that's it. I think you need to get here, and you can get him help, and I can… I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking and I'm… I'm sorry."

"Who the Hell is this?"

There was a hiccup and the catch of a breath on the line, and something about that action and the voice was starting to make Dean's hackles rise. An eerie sense of déjà vue hit the elder Winchester.

"Darrin? Is that you?"

He took the breathless sob the question received as confirmation.

"What did you do? What are you sorry about? Where's Sam?" He knew even as he said it how the answers to each of those questions would be linked, knew it in the cold knot in his stomach, and for a moment he was as breathless as the man on the other end of phone.

Dean took a breath and tried to push the wave of emotion down.

"Ok, just… tell me where you are."

He wavered as he stood, the vertigo taking him by surprise, and his feet as he stumbled around the motel room getting ready seemed as numb as his brain, but he managed to find a pen and note down the directions Darrin was giving him.

"All right, I'm on my way. Just wait there and I'll…"

"No, I have to go. I can't… I'm sorry, I am, but I can't… I didn't mean for it to go this far, please, you have to believe me."

"Okay, I believe you, just…"

"It's just… she was my _wife_, and he… I just wanted to make him understand. Wanted to make something pay. But I didn't… Look, I have to go."

"No, wait!"

A dial tone was his only reply, and Dean flung his cell down with a curse. He couldn't say he didn't understand how Darrin must have been feeling. He knew first hand just how gruesome torture could get, and Sam's attitude didn't do him any favors. There were times when Dean wanted to hold the kid down and punch him himself – hell, he had done. So he could understand where the other man was coming from.

What he couldn't understand was the fear and remorse in Darrin's voice.

Or the fact Sam hadn't simply killed him after the first blow.

Darrin's directions led him to an old barn out in the middle of no-where, and if it wasn't for the fresh set of tyre tracks in the dirt Dean would have been convinced he'd got the wrong place. What on earth had the pair been doing way out here?

That question was answered as soon as he stepped inside.

He'd thought they'd got into a fight at the bar, that Darrin had been angry and sloppy but got a couple of good punches in and taken Sam down. That he'd freaked when Sam didn't immediately get back up again.

He'd thought wrong.

The scene in front of him was like something out of his post hell nightmares – the trap, the tools, the blood; it actually took him a second to work out that the figure strapped to the chair and dripping was Sam.

It was a moment before he could move. He'd spent a year living with the guilt and the fear of it, of what his little brother might be going through in Hell. He wasn't ready to be confronted by the reality of it, not here in some backwards town, in a barn in the middle of nowhere.

Taking a breath, Dean forced himself to approach and kneel beside the chair, shifting as his knees came to rest on the hilt of a blood-stained dagger. Sam's head was hanging low and he wasn't moving, hadn't stirred since Dean had entered the room. It was only close too that he could see the slow rise and fall of his chest that told him Sam was even alive, hear the horrid rasp of his breathing.

He had to swallow down the relief of that. His feelings about the thing on the inside were mixed at best, but he couldn't deny the outside was all Sam, and he was fairly certain he was going to need it in one piece if he had any hope of reuniting it with his brother's soul.

And seeing Sam like this, even this Sam, hurt. It didn't matter that he'd done almost the exact same thing less than a month ago, although he'd only had his fear and his fists to aid him. By the looks of it Darrin had had a whole lot more.

Carefully Dean raised his brother's head. Sam's eyes were closed and his cheeks were bruised, his face littered with burst blood vessels. His lips were cracked and dry and there was blood at the corner of his mouth, blood and what looked like crystals of salt. Dean had no way of knowing how much Darrin had forced him to ingest, but if Sam's flushed skin or sluggish heart-rate were anything to go by, it wasn't good.

A rosary hung from around Sam's neck, its beads clinking melodically as Dean tried to tip his brother's head back and check his pupils. Sam's throat was a map of deep purple and red bruising. Dean could see the imprints of the different shaped beads etched into his skin and he swallowed in sympathy.

Now that he was touching his brother he could see that it wasn't just blood dripping from Sam's bound hands onto the floor. Sam was wet. His hair and the front of his shirt were drenched, and Dean ground his teeth at the sight of a container of pinkish water abandoned at the side of the circle.

Salt, a rosary, and holy water were the standard fair when it came to requesting information from demons, and it looked as though Darrin had decided to give Sam a taste of his own medicine. Only when they'd failed to have the same effect on Sam as they would on a demon, Darrin had to get creative.

His brother's body had been sliced and beaten, strangled and drowned, and Sam was still in his seat with his hands and his ankles tied. Since Sam had been able to slip out of Dean's bonds with relative ease, Dean had to wonder how the hell Darrin had done it – right until his eyes caught sight of the taser burn on Sam's side.

Dean exhaled slowly and raised one shaking hand, resting the back of his hand against his forehead as he forced himself to think. Darrin was long gone, which was a good thing because Dean honestly had no idea what he would do if he had the grieving man within arms reach. He understood the bitterness and the rawness of loss, the depth it was possible to sink to, to claw your way out of that emptiness. He understood the horror of what he must think Sam had done and knew enough about torture to know that Darrin hadn't had a clue what he was doing; enough about self loathing and remorse to have recognized it in the other man's voice.

But he also knew a lifetime of needing to see anything that could do this to his brother, die. Even if he denied constantly to Sam's face that he was even Dean's brother at all.

He fumbled at the knots at Sam's wrists with shaking hands. Sam was totally limp and still, was yet to even stir for all Dean's prodding and assessing, and it was that fact that was causing the clawing fear in Dean's stomach. Something that never slept should not be that still, nor have its eyes closed for that long.

He had to retrieve the knife at his side to cut Sam loose and tried to ignore the fact that the other man didn't so much as groan when Dean hauled him out of the chair and started the painful struggle back to the car. When they got back to the motel things would be better, he was sure. When he had better light and more time and the supplies to deal with this properly, then he would be able to silence the screaming and the guilt in his head.

He knew what this version of his brother was. He couldn't atone for the things he'd done when Dean hadn't been around, but he was here now. He'd met Darrin and seen the rage and the emptiness lurking behind his eyes, seen past the false assurances and smile.

And he'd seen the fact that Sam had failed to. He knew where this creature's weaknesses lay, knew his blind spots, and had let him out without back up or even a warning. And it was _Sam._ Not in the way Dean needed but it was his memories and his experiences and his _body_. And he suddenly knew he couldn't lose that; couldn't be left with even less than he had now.

Had very nearly been left with nothing.

He pushed that thought from his mind as he bundled Sam into the car and headed back to the motel.

-0-

Dean had been on auto-pilot as he got his unconscious brother inside their motel room. Sam was in bad shape and Dean wasn't even sure where to start.

_Assess the injuries and treat the worst first. Keep the victim warm so that shock doesn't set in. _John Winchester's voice boomed in Dean's ear causing his panic to subside into the background of his mind.

Dean started to remove Sam's blood soaked clothing, taking in the injuries as he went. Sam was a wreck of deep cuts and bruises but there seemed to be no broken bones. The part that bothered Dean the most was the stillness.

Since getting his brother, or his shell of a brother, back, the kid never rested. That had been very disturbing to Dean. Now he just wished that his sibling would twitch, moan, anything to show that he was going to wake up.

Part of Dean wished he had questioned Darrin more thoroughly, so that he knew exactly what the man had done to his brother. Unfortunately, both he and Darrin had been in such emotional states over the phone, neither had been very coherent.

Dean still felt a lot of anger towards Darrin, even though he got it. The man was distraught and had thought revenge was the answer to his agony and grief. Hell, Dean himself had taken that path many times. He was just grateful that Darren had come to his senses before Sam had been lost.

Losing Sam would have been devastating, Dean knew that now. Just a few weeks ago he had been willing to put a bullet in RoboSam's head but now, now he knew that even if this shell didn't have his brother's soul, it still housed Sam. If the vessel was lost then he really would lose Sam, forever.

Dean snapped himself back to reality. Sam was not out of the woods yet and he needed to stay focused.

Once Sam's clothing had been shed, Dean went about the task of cleaning away the grime and blood to get a better view of what he was dealing with, and it was not good. Sam had definitely been put through the wringer by Darrin.

He moved quickly to cover Sam and to start suturing the areas that were still bleeding. Dean had hoped for some movement when he started using the needle on Sam's body, but it lay motionless. If it wasn't for the shallow breathing, Dean would have thought he had finally lost his brother for good.

It was a feeling that Dean had faced more than once in his lifetime. Too many times. The last one being at Stull Cemetery. It had been so devastating to know that Sam was gone and was going to be stuck in Hell forever.

Only that hadn't happened. No, Sam had risen, but not his Sam. Dean still mourned the loss of his Sam even as Sam's shell shared his life with him. It made Dean sick to be with Soulless Sam but now, now he knew that he had been stupid. This might not be his Sam, but he still needed to protect and take care of him. If he didn't then there would never be a reunion with his Sammy.

Wiping an errant tear from his eyes, Dean paused in his work. "Damn it Sam, I miss you so damn much and if you will just pull through this one, I promise that I'll be more understanding. I get it now, you may not be whole, but you are still part of my Sam."

Dean took in a shaky breath and decided that even if it didn't work, he needed to see if he could get help. He felt so overwhelmed at the moment, his emotions overtaking him.

"_Cas, I know you are a busy guy, but if you could spare me just a moment, I need your help. Sam, he is bad off." _

In a blink of an eye Castiel appeared on the other side of the bed. He was looking down at Sam.

"What happened to Sam?" Cas's brow wrinkled up in what seemed to be concern.

"Someone he wronged wanted revenge but thankfully stopped before it was too late. I'm at a loss, he hasn't responded to me since I got him back." Dean looked at Cas, hoping that the angel felt the need to save Sam even if he was soulless.

"I see. This Sam's judgment is not just or moral. He needs you Dean, to watch over him, to be his big brother. In fact he needs your protection now more than he has ever needed it."

Before Dean could respond, Castiel leaned over and touched Sam on the forehead. Sam's eyes flew open and he let out a loud moan and then his eyes closed again.

Dean moved closer to his brother, worried that the healing process hadn't worked but as he got closer he could see that all the bruising and cuts were gone.

"Why is he asleep?" Dean mumbled out.

"His mind is restless just as it has been, but his body needs rest so I made him rest. He should wake, feeling much better in a few hours. That will give you time to come to terms with what needs to be done." Castiel was now staring intently at Dean.

"What needs to be done? Can you be a little less cryptic Cas?"

"Until this soulless state is resolved, whether it is through you reconditioning this Sam or taking the risk of re-souling Sam, you need to watch over him. He is a danger to others and to himself because he doesn't have a moral compass anymore. Sam needs you to be his protector, and I think if you show him compassion and care, he will accept you in that role."

Before Dean could respond, Castiel was gone, leaving him alone with his peacefully sleeping brother.

-0-

It seemed like an eternity, but in reality it was only a few hours later when Sam finally stirred. His eyes slowly opened as he shifted in bed.

Dean was by his side immediately and noticed how tense Sam was, there was a look of fear and confusion on his brother's face, almost making him seem, well, normal.

Sam's eyes roamed the room like a true hunter and before he could get himself in defense mode, Dean spoke.

"Sam, you are safe. Darrin isn't here. I got you away from him. How do you feel?" Dean relaxed as he noticed the tension in Sam's body deflate.

"I feel fine, but how?" Sam mumbled as he tried to sit up. "And why am I undressed?"

Dean blushed a bit at the last statement and answered in a flustered tone. "I had to strip you down to treat you, but in the end Castiel came and healed you."

Sam let out a sigh. "Okay, so is Darrin dead?"

Dean hand swiped his face in frustration. "No, he isn't but he isn't a threat anymore."

Sam began to get up. "He won't be when I get done with him."

Dean grabbed Sam and was surprised when his younger brother didn't struggle. "No, you are going to sit still, relax, and listen to me."

Sam moved so that he sat with his back against the headboard of the bed. "Okay, I'm all ears."

Dean nodded and sat down on the bed next to him. "You remember how you said I was your moral compass, did you mean that?"

Sam frowned. "Yeah, I guess I did. I mean, I get that I'm not right and most of the time that's fine, but I do feel a loss. It's hard to explain, but I sometimes feel like something is missing, and it bothers me. I don't want to go back to Hell and I don't want to die, and I feel like if I don't have you around that is more likely to happen. Without my feelings, I do stupid things; I use bad judgment, like with Darrin for instance. I was actually trying to behave like I thought you would, trying to be nice. That all went to hell, but I know you'll keep me from doing that. Or I thought I knew that."

Dean swallowed hard. "But you don't feel I have your back anymore?"

Sam shook his head in denial. "No, and I can't blame you. I mean, I'm not your Sam and I've done questionable things when it comes to you. I get that you don't feel I have your back so why would you have mine? Why trust me?"

Dean swallowed the emotions that were threatening to overflow before answering. "You're right, I wasn't there for you. I had you around hoping that I would get my Sam back but I want you to know that has changed. I've changed. I have realized that you need me now more than my Sam has ever needed me. I promise to have your back from now on."

Sam nodded in what seemed acceptance. "So you took care of Darrin?"

Dean chuckled. "Funny thing is, if you had been your normal self I probably would have - but no, I let him go. I did mean what I said though; he is not a threat to you. He could have killed you but he stopped himself. He realized that revenge wasn't going to solve his problems. Promise me you'll leave him alone?"

Sam sighed. "I will only because I trust your judgment on this."

"Good, that is a great first step Sam. If we are going to get along, I need to have you listen to me, to follow my lead."

Dean could tell his sibling was having trouble replying but after a bit he finally answered.

"I'll try Dean."

"That's all I ask Sam."

It was enough for now, anyway. Dean knew that the two of them would be butting heads in the immediate future, but he also knew that he would be there to catch Sam if he fell because in the end, soul or no soul, Sam was his little brother and he needed to protect him.

End


End file.
